Firion was quietly musing to himself as he walked along. It had been over an hour and the Warrior of Light had yet to come back from his scouting shift; the reactions of the rest of the group where a little mixed. Some worried as to if he was alright, the others said that he was strong enough to handle himself. Firion had to admit to the latter, the Warrior of Light had always seemed to be on a much different level then the rest of them; then again, that was just a feeling he had.
Given that it was his scouting shift next, he'd told all those worried that he'd take a look around to see if he could find their missing leader. His words were true, but scouting to find the Warrior of Light had to come as a second priority. Making sure that the wreckage of an airship they called Home was not discovered by the Warriors of Chaos was the first.
He worked his way down the list of areas that the ten of them where able to find their way around with no sign of the Warrior of Light. It was about the time that he'd finished scouting out the Valley of the Moon that he'd started to feel off, not exactly sure why or how. His hand idly twirled the wild rose he always carried with him, eyes more and more shifting about as he moved about.
It was during his trip through the World of Darkness that the answer dawned on him. Each area he visited was deathly quiet, no sounds other then the occasional winds or whatever happened naturally. There weren't any traps or any ambush attempts at him thus far, it was just so empty. He was used to the, dementedly, comforting feeling that the Warriors of Chaos were off in some nook getting ready to attack; the peace he felt was rather horrifying.
He kept his head about him as best he could in the uncomfortable silence, keeping himself in check as his imagination tried to convince him that it was the silence that had swallowed the Warrior of Light not too long ago.
He had to get out of the silence, at least just getting his thoughts in order again and there seemed no better place then Pandemonium. The Emperor was usually hanging around there, plotting the downfall of the Warriors of Cosmos, or shouting that odd "Uboar" phrase whenever someone was making him upset. Given what little intelligence they had on the dealings within the ranks of the Warriors of Chaos, Kuja was doing so in spades.
He let out a soft sigh, rounding a corner in the purple halls, keeping his eyes open for The Emperor's traps. The Weapon Master was hoping something happened, though as he rounded another corner, he almost wished he hadn't.
Emperor Mateus had a thing for, after beating an opponent, floating in the air like he was sitting in a throne. However, to float in a way that looked like he was sprawled over said throne wasn't a very easy image to stop looking at; if just for how disturbing and fairly silly the Emperor looked.
The man's hair was undone from all its braids and such, staff hanging idly nearby as the Emperor slept, mouth open with the occasional whisper of "Uboar". If Firion didn't miss his guess, Kuja was busy tormenting the Trap Maker in his dreams; as if in the waking world wasn't enough.
For some reason, Zidane's appearance flickered in his mind as a hand reached for one of the daggers sheathed in his boots. It came again, this time as a memory of one of their conversations back when he'd first met the young man.
Zidane was a performer back in his home world. He was always chattering on and on about performing and entertaining an audience; even his speech had adopted a few theater terms, truly identifying his love of the limelight. That one memory was of a conversation the two were having about a play, one that his troupe was working on before being called by Cosmos to help fight Chaos. Firion took a few steps closer to the Emperor, the dagger held gracefully in one hand. He let out a soft chuckle, quiet and under his breath.
"MacBeth would be proud."